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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472984">Save Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDisasterTypist/pseuds/TheDisasterTypist'>TheDisasterTypist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I've Got Religious Trauma But I'm Working On It, Religious Content, Tags May Change, The Eye Stuff Is Temporary, Torture, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), slight canon divergence for the tv show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:21:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDisasterTypist/pseuds/TheDisasterTypist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven and Hell were, to put it politely, pissed as fuck.</p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale were aware of this, of course, despite being Earthside for 6000 years they knew what their respective sides thought about certain things. And stopping Armagoing-going-gone and the subsequent Holy War, their Arrangement, being all around terrible at their jobs? Definitely things that Above and Below weren't happy with.</p><p>Both of them knew that, eventually, this ‘honeymoon’ period would end, that they’d eventually be rounded up and disposed of. Hellfire and Holy Water, opposite and the same. But this was the Rest of their Lives, however long that would be, and they’d spend it like tomorrow would never come.</p><p>Tomorrow comes anyway, but it makes it easier to bear if you ignore it, like a person very intolerant to dairy ignores the physical ramifications they will experience to eat a spoonful of decadent triple chocolate mousse.</p><p>(Heaven/Hell come after Aziraphale and Crowley, before a sudden interruption by Someone who wants to help, if they'll let Them)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Of All The Non-existent Spaces In-between Worlds, You Had To Kidnap Us To Yours?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sup nerds! So, this is a kinda book-centric fic (because I maybe haven't finished the show yet) but my sibling says this works as a slight canon divergence from the tv show, so don't feel put off?</p><p>I have more words written, but I also have Another Damn Hyperfixation Disorder and as such I need a little motivation to be able to finish anything.</p><p>I know the world is absolutely fucking nuts atm, so take care of yourselves and stay safe, ok? Right now we only have each other, so let's all be there for one another!</p><p>If something needs tagging that I missed, please let me know, and as always comments, kudos, and bookmarks are treasured like a cool and shiny rock given by a friendly, if not suspiciously smart, magpie!!</p><p>Title from the Queen song of the same name because the lyrics slap, they kinda work thematically, and also I couldn't think of anything else to name it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heaven and Hell were, to put it politely, pissed as<em> fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale were aware of this, of course, despite being Earthside for 6000 years they knew what their respective sides thought about certain things. And stopping Armagoing-going-gone and the subsequent Holy War, their Arrangement, being all-around terrible at their jobs? Definitely things that Above and Below weren't happy with.</p><p> </p><p>Both of them knew that, eventually, this ‘honeymoon’ period would end, that they’d eventually be rounded up and <em>disposed </em>of. Hellfire and Holy Water, opposite and the same. But this was the Rest of their Lives, however long that would be, and they’d spend it like tomorrow would never come.</p><p> </p><p>Tomorrow comes anyway, but it makes it easier to bear if you ignore it, like a person very intolerant to dairy ignores the physical ramifications they will experience to eat a spoonful of decadent triple chocolate mousse.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Many drinks, desserts, and dangerous drives later, the honeymoon came to an end. Well, ‘coming to an end’ is the family-friendly way to put it. To be more accurate, the honeymoon was struck from behind, beaten to a bloody pulp, then taken out back without any last rights or cigarettes, and shot fifteen times at close range. To be completely inaccurate, the honeymoon was drawn out for a small eternity on some delightfully warm beach, only ending once both parties looked into each other’s suntanned faces, exclaiming “Oh, this has been wonderful, but I quite miss the feeling of holding my favourite mug while snuggling down next to you on a miserable rainy day. Let’s go home now, love.”</p><p>
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</p><p>One moment Aziraphale was tutting as he explained to Crowley that the plants were trying their best, but the thought of their friends being killed for a single flaw made them <em>slightly </em>stressed, and Crowley opened his mouth to sheepishly explain that he didn’t actually harm his plants, but instead just moved them from inside his comfortable apartment and into a huge greenhouse outside where the water and temperature were left a bit more to chance, when they were suddenly somewhere else. They were standing -if one can stand in a mental state between dimensional pockets- in an endless plane, only able to look at each other from across the vast emptiness as they were held in place by the Will of many different forces working together. Two sets of wings* had both manifested without their permission, feathers ruffling at the intensity of their thrashing, trying to regain control. An assembly of entities from both Above and Below were gathered with them, apparently forming a tentative Arrangement of their own to punish Aziraphale and Crowley for their transgressions.</p><p> </p><p>*The wings of angels and demons, as stated in <em> Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch</em>, are “no different from one another”, and this means that demons don’t have giant bat-like wings -a disappointment for any bat seeking representation. However, this shouldn’t be taken to mean that they all look the same. Each set of wings is as unique as a fingerprint, and a demon's wings do change as they Fall. Before he Sauntered Vaguely Downwards, Crowley's wings looked close to a black swan, and as he Fell they painfully shifted until they looked more like a golden eagle. Fittingly, Aziraphale’s wings looked uncannily similar to a scarlet macaw. None of this is important to the story right now though, so we shall return to that.</p><p>
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</p><p>A great mental booming sound crashed through all coherent thought, opposing forces tumbling over each other as they tried to take control over the Judgement. The best comparison one could make would be if a church youth choir started performing screamo death metal with five minutes to prep, and harmonizing was both encouraged and caused violent electric shock, and then the recording of the performance was played backwards through the echoing highlands of Scotland.</p><p> </p><p>The cacophony finally congealed together in a vaguely humanoid shape, a three-dimensional shadow halod in burning light. Ancient civilisations believed that solar eclipses were a sign of war, death, and other nasty things. Looking at this creature made it easy to understand why, and as it began speaking, both Aziraphale and Crowley winced in pain at the horrible voice echoing from it.</p><p> </p><p>"Crowley. Aziraphale. <em>Wow</em>. Actions like yours have not been seen since the Fall. Trying to prevent the Apocalypse was only the grand finale to the disobedience of the past six thousand years. You didn't really think that this will change anything in the long run? The only difference will be that the next time we make a move, you <em> won't </em> be in a position to interfere."</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale startled as bright flames sprung up on all sides of him, only just far enough away from him to not immediately burn. He spluttered slightly as the air around him filled with the thick, noxious smell of smoke and brimstone. Hellfire. Rings of inescapable Hellfire, a subtle hint that he was in a little bit of trouble here. His wings moved frantically, trying to escape the overbearing heat.</p><p> </p><p>On the other hand, Crowley would've given almost anything to soak in Hellfire at that present moment. The temperature around him was dropping rapidly, snow beginning to whip around him, turning him into a disgruntled snowglobe. His wings stopped moving and instead tightly wrapped around his body, attempting to protect him from the windchill and the hateful little flakes of ice.</p><p> </p><p>"We do hope you're uncomfortable, Crowley. While we have no more use for you, we thought that using Holy Water straight away would be almost a mercy. Freezing first seemed much more fitting for a snake-like you, but please, let us know if you think of anything better."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley suppressed a shiver as he haughtily retorted "Well, I personally think that letting us go would be much worse, don't you? Let us sweat it out, wondering when you'll next-" His mouth was Willed shut forcefully, just narrowly avoiding biting his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>"We were being sarcastic, thank you. Stay there and freeze quietly. Now," a harsh, metallic tutting noise grated down their spines as attention was moved away from Crowley. "Aziraphale. You <em>have </em>been a busy little bee, haven't you? Disobeying orders, consorting with the enemy. Why," the figure chuckled darkly, "Is it true that you're in love with that worthless creature?"</p><p>
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</p><p>Crowley's eyes almost shot out of his head at the speed of which he looked up at Aziraphale, disbelief plain on his chilled face. Aziraphale <em>loved </em>him? No, no, they were lying. Of course they were lying. Right? Aziraphale was an angel, how could he ever love something as broken, as sinful as Crowley? Friends, best friends, sure, but nothing more, no matter how much he wished it were different. Because no matter how much Crowley Loved him -and he did, Crowley had loved him in one way or another since the Garden, where he'd first met a kindhearted Angel who'd rather face the wrath of Heaven for losing his sword than letting those first humans out into the world unprotected- he would <em>never </em>risk tempting him into Falling. An eternity of pining at arm's length undoubtedly worth it if his angel was safe and happy. No, the angel did <em>not </em>love him.</p><p>
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</p><p>"He's <em> not </em> worthless." Aziraphale insisted without missing a single beat. He was beginning to pant slightly as the heat began to surpass his tolerance, but he tried to straighten up as he caught Crowley's gaze, not denying anything.</p><p> </p><p>"So you are, then? As if everything else wasn't sin enough, you want to go and add...<em> sodomy </em> to the list?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't think that's <em> any </em> of your business, first of all." Aziraphale bristled, "And secondly, you know as well as I that-"</p><p> </p><p>The figure interrupted him quickly, "Honestly, we're surprised you're still able to count yourself as an angel. But, we digress. We didn't bring you here just to chat. No, we need to know what you've done with the boy."</p><p> </p><p>"I-I don't understand-" Aziraphale stuttered before the shadowy figure entered into his space menacingly, Hellfire parting easily around it.</p><p> </p><p>"DO NOT PLAY COY WITH US! The boy, Adam, where is he?! We need him back NOW, but he's hidden his aura from us, no doubt at <em> your </em> suggestion." The figure sighed slightly, raising its hand to Aziraphale's face and trailing an icy finger slowly down his cheek. He tried to flinch away, its touch a harsh mockery of the gentle gesture it was attempting to emulate. The finger felt like a drawn-out electric shock, each zap nauseating and dizzying. It trailed lazily down his chest and shoulder as it continued speaking.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you know how long it's been since an angel Fell? Over six thousand years. Can you imagine how Hell might act towards someone new arriving after all that time? They're hardly hospitable anyway, but to someone on Heaven's side for so long? I don't think you'd last more than twelve hours, at least-” a sinful laugh punctured its train of thought “-not intact. Now, we don't want to do that to you, no, we want to be <em> merciful</em>, but if we don't have the child, then we have no other choice, do we?" At this, the horrid entity touched the outermost feather on Aziraphale's wing. He watched in a disbelieving terror as a sickly oil slick black, like that of a crow’s feather, began to slowly, painfully, creep its way through the previously colourful feathers shaft before absorbing into the vanes, like ink dropped on blotting paper. Aziraphale was Falling.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The temperature in Crowley's corner of the Celestial Thunderdome had begun to reach the lower end of the negative fifty degrees celsius, and he was struggling to think past both the cold and the thought that someone as Good as Aziraphale could even possibly love him. But his brain had started to come back online with a rageful vengeance as that vile monster stroked Aziraphale's face as though he belonged to it. Seeing Aziraphale so obviously disgusted was reason enough for Crowley to start acting, but the absolute terror on Aziraphale's face at the prospect of Falling was the straw that broke the camels (snakes) back. Crowley was shaking with uncontainable rage -as well as the intense cold-, eye's flashing red behind his glasses as he fought back against the Wills keeping him silent. He was gaining ground, almost there now, if he could keep a flaming Bently together this would surely be a cakewalk, Aziraphale <em>needed </em>help, almost-</p><p>
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</p><p>"Sss-Stop!" He finally broke through, crumpling down into the snow at the effort. The entity whipped round to him, and Crowley was immensely relieved that the inky blackness advancing up Aziraphale's wing stopped once focus was moved away from him. All Crowley had to do now was to keep everyone's attention on himself.</p><p> </p><p>Every moment in history seemed destined to lead to this.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Is it really so hard," the figure that Crowley was starting to think of as Dickhead Supreme began, slowly making its way over to him, "to keep your mouth shut? Is killing you really our only option?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yep," Crowley panted, trying to hit the antagonistic sweet spot between instant murderous rage and total boredom, "But before you do, I should tell you that he doessn't know where I've moved Adam. Jusst, just a thought."</p><p> </p><p>Dickhead Supreme laughed disbelievingly. "Really? You didn't share that with your only friend? You don't actually think we're that stupid, do you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of coursse not," Crowley had been banking on the fact that they <em>were </em>that stupid, and was now quickly trying to think. "you have no reasson to believe me. If you need the boy that bad, you really should, but whatever." The cold was making it difficult to speak, and his eyes kept drifting shut on their own. "But <em>you </em>don't actually think I'd tell information that important to ssomeone who can't lie? Do you think <em> I'm </em> stupid?"</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale started to make a noise in protest, the sight of Crowley at the mercy of that <em>thing </em>hurting more than he would have thought possible, but Crowley lifted his gaze to him and glared, silently begging him to <em>shut up</em>, before dropping his head to the ground when the effort became too much.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale remained quiet even after Crowley withdrew from him completely, if only because he worried what would happen if Crowley tried to spend any more energy that he seemingly didn't have. He moved as close to the flames as he dared, tears quietly slipping down his face as he watched his love shivering in the snow.</p><p> </p><p>Dickhead Supreme circled Crowley slowly, like one might circle a strange insect new to the world of entomology, right before picking up a copy of Tolstoy's 'War and Peace' and using it to beat the bug to death. "To be honest here, yes, we think you're incredibly stupid. But we're intrigued. Go on then. Where'd you hide the Antichrist?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley gave a small exhale that at any other time would have been a hysterical fit of giggles, provided that any other time was when he had any energy to spare and could still feel his, well, everything. Could he actually discorporate from the cold? He'd never been enough of a masochist to be bothered testing it. </p><p> </p><p>"Sssorry, it'ss not gonna be that easy. The way I ssee it, you need to keep uss alive till you know. Can't assk the dead questionss and get answers, can you? And if you hurt Aziraphale, I sswear I'm good as dead to you. Sso," he glanced up at Dickhead Supreme and grinned arrogantly through chattering teeth, "lookss like you're backed into a corner."</p><p> </p><p>"No, we don't think we are. In fact-" At this, Crowley's glasses were ripped off his face and he was flipped onto his back roughly. A horrible weight settled onto his chest as the newly dubbed Dickhead Overlord sat on top of him, its legs pinning his arms to his sides and digging into sensitive wings. He attempted to shut his eyes, the glowing outline painfully contracting his pupils into almost nothing, but he was unable to look away, watching for any weakness as he struggled to get free. "-we should really thank you. If you have information, we'll get it. If not, we'll have fun. Either way, it’s a win for us. And hearing you beg for death will be an added highlight. Now hold still," A small ornate dish appeared, hovering in the air just about its shoulder, "We wouldn't want to spill any Holy water. Such a waste. Now, don't worry, it's been diluted, so you won't die immediately. You'll only wish you did." It said sweetly, poison dripping from every syllable.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley stiffened. He was in slightly over his head now, and was completely terrified. He wasn't ready, he still had so much more to do, he'd wasted so much time. Fuck, he never told Aziraphale how he felt. Not directly. And if Aziraphale really did love him too, they could've been happy together.</p><p> </p><p>But, Crowley thought after a moment, if that's all I get with Aziraphale, ineffable plan or not, I'm content. Every moment with him was a small miracle. And dying for the person you love isn't a bad way to go, even if I do end up a burning puddle.</p><p>
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</p><p>He wanted to steal a glance at Aziraphale, but stopped himself, knowing if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop sobbing. "Sss-see you next time, angel." He said, hoping to sound cool, or even just calm, and missing both marks completely.</p><p> </p><p>"On the contrary," Dickhead Overlord chuckled, dipping it's thumbs into the dish and raising them over Crowley's face, "we don't think you will."</p><p> </p><p>Oh, Crowley thought, surprisingly distanced from the situation. I forgot about the torture bit.</p><p> </p><p>The thumbs were then jammed into his eyes, similar to a toddler when confronted with a birthday cake.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Crowley had sworn to himself that no matter how much this hurt, he wouldn't let on, not wanting to worry Aziraphale or give Dickhead Overlord the satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>What's the point of anything if you can't lie to yourself?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"WHERE. IS. ADAM?" the vile creature on top of him demanded through gritted teeth, probably.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley, however, was unable to hear him, and even if he had was far too busy thrashing and screaming incoherently to answer. The pain was blinding, though that may have had something to do with the thumbs. And the Holy water. Addendum- the pain was incredible. If he met Ligur again in whatever might happen next, he'd have to apologise to him, at least half-heartedly. The guy was a total asshole, but this was slightly more intense than Crowley had first imagined. His lungs had run out of air, but he continued to cry out, occult energy giving him voice as tears -at least, that's what he hoped that was- coursed down his face. The thumbs started to sink lower into his head, through where his eyes should have been. If he had any capacity to speak, he would've been begging for outright death an eternity ago, regardless of whether or not Aziraphale could hear him. But all he could do was scream as he wavered at the edge of unconsciousness and beyond.</p><p> </p><p>"STOP!" Aziraphale was screaming now too, heartbreaking at the sight of Crowley withering in pain. There had to be a way out of the Hellfire. He <em>needed </em>to help Crowley, cost be damned. "LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU FUCKING BASTARDS, STOP!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>"ENOUGH"</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Not for the first time, Crowley felt himself falling through the air. This time, however, he couldn't care less about that part of his predicament, just thankful that the all-consuming burning had vanished from his eyes. Just before he passed out, he felt warm arms wrap around him, slowing his descent.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Lord Beeth Great, But I Still Don't Trust Holy Saliva As A Wound Treatment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He awoke to the smell of lightning, frankincense, and old books. Thank Someone, that was his angel.</p><p> </p><p>His head was resting in Aziraphale's lap, a comforting hand stroking his forehead rhythmically, and he was covered in what he assumed was Aziraphale's coat, making him blissfully warm. He tried to blink his eyes open and - nothing. Nothing but pain and fear quickly overwhelming him. Shit. Shit shit shit<em> shitshit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"'Ziraphale?" He croaked out.</p><p> </p><p>"Shhhhh, yeah, it’s me, you're o- safe. We're both safe." Aziraphale answered, voice sounding choked with tears. <em> Shit! </em></p><p> </p><p>"Angel, I," He took a shaky breath in, mouth drier than Moses' after all those years in that damned desert, "I can't see. I can't see anything. It <em> hurts </em>." He was beginning to hyperventilate, feeling too vulnerable. Aziraphale grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly, pouring as much affection into the gesture as he could.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe, my dear, deep breath, shhhh. We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy, just, just stay with me.” Aziraphale tried to compose himself, the sight of Crowley falling through the sky like a bleeding sack of potatoes haunting him still. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image, as someone knelt down next to them and began to talk.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>How’re you both doing, love? I’ve got everything, so I can get st-</b>”</p><p>
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</p><p>Crowley startled hard, gripping Aziraphale tightly as he sprung up and attempted to move them both away from the unknown voice beside them, panic clear on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley!” cried Aziraphale, “Lie back down, you’re going to hurt yourself-!”</p><p> </p><p>“<b>Sorry, sorry, I’m not going to hurt you, try and stay-!</b>”</p><p> </p><p>“Get away!” Crowley was fighting desperately as Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him, pinning his wings tightly to his back while attempting to get him back onto the ground before the fool went arse over tit. “Who the <em> fuck </em> are you?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Manners!” The angel chastised him firmly, before sprouting apologises to the stranger, “I’m so sorry, so sorry, he only just came to, doesn’t know what’s going on, he’s normally much better behaved-”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi!”</p><p> </p><p>“-just ignore everything he says, really.”</p><p> </p><p>The stranger's hand waved it away. “<b>It’s quite alright, don’t fret. Since you asked, Crowley, pick a deity you like and call me that, as I'm kind of them all.</b>”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley stopped moving for a second as he processed, before crumpling to the ground* with a small groan.</p><p> </p><p>*It would’ve been the ground, were it not for the aforementioned angel holding him from behind. What really happened was Aziraphale, already leaning back slightly to prevent Crowley from tipping forward, was not prepared to have an incredibly lanky demon with fully corporeal wings practically throw himself backwards, and with an undignified yelp Aziraphale ended up being the one sprawled in the dirt, the pouty demon sitting squarely in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Good <em> fucking </em>Lord,” Crowley muttered bitterly.</p><p> </p><p>“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale began.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>Yep, a common one of Mine!</b>” Said the Lord cheerfully.</p><p> </p><p>“I, what-?” Aziraphale ended, spluttering.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>A joke, little one, don't worry so much. Everything’s okay. Did you know that at one point a very drunk Welshmen confused me for Freddie Mercury, incredibly fun time. I really do love his music, you know."</b> They tutted fondly before continuing. <b>"Ah, anywho. Crowley, before we continue this catch up of ours, I've made up something for your eyes here, would I have your permission to put it on you?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>"Well, who am I to refuse?" Crowley attempted to reply with his usual devil may care attitude, but only managing whispered fear. The last time he'd been this close to Them had ended with him being suddenly flung from Heaven, Hellfire burning all traces of his ever being loved by Them. Crowley cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, You’re gonna do whatever You want anyway.” This came out slightly more bitter than he would have liked, but at least it was audible.</p><p> </p><p>The Lord shook Their head sadly. “<b>I’m so sorry. So sorry.</b> ” Crowley attempted to blink -not that anything happened- in shock. Did They really just apologise to him? The Lord continued. “ <b>We have to talk later, but right now you’re in pain. Would you prefer Aziraphale to help you instead of Me?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded silently, face downcast as he thought. Aziraphale unwrapped his arms from Crowley slowly, not sure that he wouldn’t immediately bolt away. Dipping his first two fingers into a small hand-carved bowl the Lord handed him, he gently smeared an ointment of some kind over Crowley’s wounds.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley jumped slightly in pain, biting back a hiss to try and spare his angel the thought that he was causing any harm in the slightest. Aziraphale, meanwhile, was biting back tears at the sight and feel of Crowley trying to silently white knuckle his way through it. He finished quickly but precisely, whispering apologies and reassurances as he once again wrapped his arms around Crowley. The Lord gently spoke, attempting to give them space. “<b>That will take a minute or two to work, and it will feel strange as it heals. Light may hurt as everything knits back together, so it may be prudent to cover your face for now.</b>”</p><p> </p><p>Taking deep, halting breaths, Crowley raised a shaking hand to his soon-to-be-again eyes, trying to disregard the residual pain and the beginnings of a tingling feeling, and took a stab at humour. “Soo, is this the same recipe that You used last time? Uh,” he said aside to Aziraphale, “When-when Jesus healed the blind man, I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale scoffed, “Surprisingly, my dear, I <em> do </em> know biblical doctrine.”</p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, the Lord gave a nervous laugh before answering. “<b>Well, if you really </b> <b> <em>must</em> </b> <b> know…</b>”</p><p> </p><p>“...<em> Eww</em>. Really? Spit and dirt? You couldn’t have come up with something nicer than saliva, rock particles, and dead stuff?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Crowley</em>. Can you <em>please </em>not make a fuss about this? It’s impolite.”</p><p> </p><p>“You say that, but I couldn’t help but feel that minor miracle you just did to clean your hands.”</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale shifted his now clean hand slightly to make it out of eyesight of the Lord before muttering. “I was going to clean it anyway, and my personal hygiene habits aren’t what we’re talking about.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re right. We’re talking about the fact that my head was just stuffed full of holy spitmud.” Crowley said bitingly, desperately trying to ignore the strange sensation in his head.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The best way to describe how it felt would be to imagine being a bowl of some description, and then imagining slightly warm liquid jelly slowly being poured into you and solidifying into the wobbly mass it’s known for. Now imagine that the jelly is made of lidocaine and it's causing a slight tingly feeling where you can almost feel what’s happening, but can’t quite pinpoint the location. While all this is going on, imagine that at the bottom of the bowl a cord is being knitted together, and the cord is able to turn whatever is happening in front of the bowl into electric signals, but it’s not quite sealed, so every now and then it gives a very small zap.</p><p> </p><p>It felt exactly like that, but the bowl was his eye socket, the jelly the eyeball, and the cord the optic nerve.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale could feel Crowley trembling slightly in his lap, breathing just a touch too shallow. "Crowley," he began, concern seeping through every inch of his voice, "are you okay? Is it hurting -should it be hurting-? What can I do?"</p><p> </p><p>"It, it's not really hurting, it's just more of a really weird feeling? When light gets through my fingers it twinges, but at least I can tell there's light? I think that's a good sign?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley hadn't completed speaking before Aziraphale placed his hand over top Crowley's and the Lord moved to shade him with Their body, both attempting to stop any more light hitting his face. Crowley scoffed slightly as he felt Aziraphale’s hand settle on top of his own. "I'm not a fledgling, I don't <em> need </em> to be mothered ang-uh, Aziraphale."</p><p> </p><p>He trailed off weakly, suddenly uncomfortable with using his pet name for Aziraphale in front of the Lord. He didn’t know what Their motives were, and was trying to avoid giving Them any extra possible ammunition against Aziraphale.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Right.” Aziraphale whispered, almost to himself, and reluctantly removed his hand. Silly old fool, he began berating himself, of course, he feels uncomfortable with you now. You basically sprung the fact that you Love him with a capital L while you were smack dab in the middle of a life and -technically it should have just been a death only outcome, but anyway- a life and death situation! He probably wasn’t ready to acknowledge those feelings between us. Or maybe…</p><p> </p><p>Maybe you were wrong. He’s never actually said anything, you’ve been assuming from how he acts. Maybe he doesn’t feel that way <em>at all</em>. He might have just been trying to act friendly, and <em>you </em>were just projecting <em>your </em>feelings onto him. He told you once, back in 1494 over a wonderful new thing called <em>scotch</em>, that he’d never understand what “-the big fuss is over this ‘Love’ thing is! Look at us, eh angel, what more could we want?! Just, just being friends is all we need, right? Yeah, don’t need anything else. You’re more than enough. Only reason I’ve got through this century, you are.” You thought he was just drunk and rambling, but maybe he was just trying to let you down gently. Maybe you’ve ruined <em>everything</em>. The thought chilled him to the bone.</p><p>
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</p><p>The Lord let out an extremely exasperated sigh. “<b>You two, I swear to Me…</b> ” They muttered before squatting down in front of Crowley. “ <b>Okay, can you try blinking for me, see if that’s working yet?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>“Oookay...um, yes? Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“<b>Great, that’s really good. Close your eyes and lower your hand, and just get acclimated to that amount of light. Tell Me if it gets worse, okay?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley slowly lowered his hand, wincing slightly as he adjusted. The skin around his eyes was slightly pink and shiny, like he’d just been crying. Or like his skin, which had previously been a mangled mess, had grown back miraculously fast, and hadn’t had time to completely settle down. He also had eyelids again, undoubtedly a good sign. Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in relief.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It wasn’t that he doubted that the Lord would be able to fix Crowley, but he had to admit that he was a teeny bit surprised when They immediately began trying to care for him. To be honest, when Aziraphale first saw Them he didn’t immediately realise who They were (if anyone ever found out, he would blame it on being so overwhelmed in Their presence that he lost his head for a moment. Not that <em>anyone </em>was <em>ever </em>going to find out.) and had thrown himself over Crowley’s prone body while making threats that’d make Spanish Inquisitors tremble in fear (and possible awe). Once he realised, he quickly swung between begging for help and forgiveness, and cursing Them out like Job for abandoning him, for abandoning <em>everyone</em>. The only reason he’d calmed down was the sight of the Lord holding up Their hands and begging with Aziraphale to let Them help. Begged <em> Aziraphale</em>, as if They needed <em>his </em>permission. And then, after Aziraphale mutely nodded, eyes wide in mild shock, the Lord scooped him into Their chest in a tender hug, the way a parent would hug their child after they’d hurt themselves on a playground.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>I’m sorry</b>,” They said in soothing tones, like cool water over a burn, “ <b>so sorry, little one. You’re safe, you’re both safe here, I’ve got you</b>.”</p><p> </p><p>The floodgates within Aziraphale had burst open at this, and he clung weakly to Them as he sobbed, the emotions from the day’s events washing away with his tears.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“<b>Now</b>,” the Lord said, drawing Aziraphale back into the present, “ <b>when you feel ready, slowly try opening them. Don’t rush, take your time</b>.”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley blinked, squinting in the light as his eyes adjusted to existing again. Colours and shapes slowly merged back into each other, four images becoming two -another blink- and finally one.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Lord Sees All, And That Includes Your Awkward Attempts At Flirting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Many books, scholars, internet articles, slices of toast, and the like have attempted to describe or depict how the Lord looks, and they’ve all hit the nail on the head-and have been completely wrong.</p><p> </p><p>The first thing to take into account is that the Lord is an incorporeal being that’s omnipresent, and therefore technically shouldn’t have a physical form. But for the sake of argument, that shall be disregarded from this point onwards.</p><p> </p><p>One way to describe the Lord could be this; imagine a person that is neither man nor woman, short or tall, black or white, fat or thin, old or young, abled or disabled, and every other box one could think of to categorize a human being, whilst being all those things as well.</p><p> </p><p>Another way would be to imagine a person. Now another one. Another. Imagine every person that has ever lived, is alive now, and will be alive eventually. Now, merge them all together. Yes, similar to that.</p><p> </p><p>Or, according to one incredibly intoxicated Welshman, you could imagine Freddie Mercury.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In front of Crowley squatted the Lord, half-smile still ever-present on Their face.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>Well, how’s everything look? Should we do the ‘how many fingers am I holding up’ thing?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>“There aren’t words to describe how much I don’t want to do that, I can see just fine.” Crowley huffed, desperately wishing for some sunglasses to hide behind.</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale shifted slightly underneath him, causing him to almost levitate off the ground in his haste to free the angel. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realise I was still- here, let me help you up.” He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, trying to ignore the heady feeling as they touched, now is <em> not </em> the time for that, and pulled him up to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, but should you be up yet? How’re you -<em> oh. </em>” </p><p> </p><p>Crowley had combed his eyes over Aziraphale’s wings, finding to his immense relief that they looked the same as they always had (a rainbow of feathers laying messily over each other, barbs unzipping all over the place, unless it was the extremely rare occasion that Aziraphale was drunk enough for Crowley to convince him to let them be preened. <em> Not </em> that Crowley had them memorised, mind.), before grabbing Aziraphale’s coat off the ground and handing it back to him, catching his eye as he did so. The same eyes that were now staring at Crowley’s, almost piercing what was left of his soul with their intensity.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, what’s- what’s with the staring there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your eyes look the same as they did before.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-oh.” Crowley’s heart nose-dived to the bottom of his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I was a bit worried they’d look different. I’ve always thought your eyes were rather beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ngk?” Crowley questioned eloquently, heart slingshotting back past his chest and lodging firmly in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Not that what I think about it matters, of course!” Aziraphale said, taking the choked noise as a sign of discomfort and attempting to backpedal.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley, oblivious to Aziraphale’s not so subtle panic due to his brain shutting down slightly at the compliment, was a touch confused as to what brought that on.</p><p> </p><p>“But, yes, it does? Uh, and I, I like your eyes. Too, um, they’re very, reflective. No, well yes, oh <em> bless it </em>-”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Over the millennia, Crowley had received several commendations for seducing people with his silver tongue. If those commendations were present at that moment, they’d be struggling to stifle their laughter almost as much as the Lord was.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Okay! Glad we’re <em> so </em> entertaining, and no offence, <em> oh Lord </em>, but can You either just get on with whatever You’re going to do to us, or give us some privacy?! Better yet, can we go?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Crowley! You can’t <em>say that!</em> <em>Please</em>…” Aziraphale uttered, horrified, as he subtly stepped in between Crowley and the Lord, arm slightly raised and trembling.</p><p> </p><p>They sobered up immediately, smile vanishing like mist in the sun. They lifted Their palms up in a placating gesture, before softly beginning.</p><p> </p><p>“<b>I’m not going to hurt you, </b> <b> <em>either</em> </b> <b> of you, okay? I promise. Look, I’m not going to hold you captive here, or anything, but I really would like to talk first. It’s your choice, though.</b>”</p><p> </p><p>Crowley laughed bitterly. “Our choice?! Despite appearances, we’re not human, we weren’t gifted with the particular luxury of <em> free will </em>. Perfect little soldiers, follow every order we’re given, that ring a bell?!”</p><p> </p><p>The Lord cocked an eyebrow. “<b>What are you on about? You’ve all had free will from the Start, that’s </b> <b> <em>why</em> </b> <b> you’re each able to be </b> <b> <em>you</em> </b> <b>.</b>”</p><p> </p><p>To say that this news was a shock to them would be like saying stargazy pie is slightly disturbing, i.e., a massive understatement. They both stared, wide-eyed and mouth agape (not unlike that abomination of a food), as they processed.</p><p> </p><p>“No, we- when would You…?” Crowley, having not changed too much since the Beginning, was the first one to start asking questions -or at least attempting to. “We’re Angels- I mean we were, well, he still is, um-"</p><p> </p><p>"No, no, that makes sense, how else would the Fall happen?" Aziraphale turned to Crowley, eyes gleaming as a 6000-ish year-long mystery finally came to a close. "<em> Think </em> about it, Crowley. If you didn't have free will, how would you have been able to disobey?" He rounded back to the Lord. "Why wouldn't You tell us?"</p><p> </p><p>"I didn't disobey<em> anyone.</em>" Crowley hissed out past the horrible twisting feeling in his chest. It hurt that Aziraphale assumed he did. Not that Aziraphale had much choice otherwise, the last (and only) time he'd asked, Crowley stopped talking, drunk every even vaguely alcoholic drink within a five-mile radius, and then proceeded to sleep through the rest of the 1800's (except that one trip to the bathroom he made in 1832. Crowley had yet to learn not to drink before bed).</p><p> </p><p>"<b>I- You’re right, Crowley, you didn’t disobey Me. You were just being curious, and that wasn't wrong. And I know you now have </b> <b> <em>way</em> </b> <b> more questions, so let’s talk. Please.</b>” </p><p> </p><p>“You- I- Oh, You’re a right bastard, You know?” Crowley raked his hands through his hair, hissing in frustration. “You’ve got five minutes, then we’re outta here, got it?... Maybe ten, if You’re very, very lucky, and not boring. But <em> that’s </em> it!”</p><p> </p><p>They sighed in relief. “<b>Thank you. Shall we take a turn ‘round the garden together?</b>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fine. </em>” Crowley tightly replied, before softening his voice, “Aziraphale, would you be okay with waiting here till I get back? I won’t be long.”</p><p> </p><p>“I… If, if that’s what <em> you </em> wanted. But would you be okay? Alone with... <em> Them </em> ?” Aziraphale very much hated the idea of letting Crowley go off half-cocked and angry, with the <em> Actual Creator of the Universe </em>, but… There was still that nagging voice inside him whispering that Crowley didn’t want him around right now, maybe not ever, he needed to give him some space, he was too much, went too far. On and on his thoughts spiral, until Aziraphale was thoroughly convinced that if Crowley didn’t outright hate him right now, he’s at the very least uncomfortable and wanting some distance.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’ll be back in, like, ten minutes, and then we’re out of here. Stay over here. You could even work on your roar, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does ‘roaring’ have to do with anything? I don’t get it.”*</p><p> </p><p>Crowley sighed in exasperation. “It was a Lion King- Again, I’m begging you; <em> let me show you some </em> - whatever, we’ll talk about this later. Just stay s- here. Just stay <em> here </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>*Aziraphale did, of course, know what Crowley was referencing. It would’ve been hard <em> not </em> to know, as he had been given an almost word-for-word reenactment of the movie by a thoroughly sloshed demon at 2:13 am one dreary morning post Apoca-missed, complete with said demon ‘pride-rocking’ himself on top of the highest bookcase while yelling about how “They made Hamlet <em> with lions! </em>We would never have come up with that?! Kids’re gonna love it!”. Aziraphale played up this ignorant act with most modern things, because more often than not Crowley would explain it to him for ages, and he’d done it for so long now that the action was ingrained into him. Crowley hadn’t caught onto this yet, and genuinely believed that Aziraphale had no clue or interest in what the current world was doing. But we’ve once again drifted from the story, and shall now drift back in.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn’t know what the Lord wanted with him, and didn’t trust Them around Aziraphale. He knew Aziraphale was smart and had already proven that he wasn’t afraid to straight-up lie to Them -when he told Crowley that he’d done that the demon was catatonic for nearly thirty hours in shock-, but he knew that one false move would be all it’d take for Aziraphale to lose his place in Heaven, and he’d be damned (again) before he’d risk Aziraphale’s safety like that. </p><p> </p><p>Jamming his hands into his pockets to hide how hard they were trembling, Crowley stalked over to the Lord. “Let’s get this over with, then.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, guess what seems to be a great way to motivate me to write more of my creative stuff? Turns out, it's multiple uni assignments being due!! Productive procrastination is the best and I for one harbour absolutely zero regrets about my actions! I hope all y'all are staying safe and well, love you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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